Not My Fault
by Laume
Summary: Written for the 3th floor corridor contest. To the very end, Lucius insist that it is not his fault.


**A/N: written for Gonnabefamous' Third Floor Corridor contest. This story contains several Pride and Prejudice quotes. I do apologise for that, but I could not help myself.**

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.

To this rule, known to both Muggle and Wizard, Lucius Malfoy was no exception. Having once been a single man in possession of a good fortune, he had set out to find himself that wanted wife.

Which he found, conveniently, in Narcissa Black.

And she, though by no means lacking in fortune herself, found the offer of becoming Mrs Malfoy quite tempting.

Love was not a necessity in their families. Lucius was handsome, rich, well mannered and well connected. Narcissa was nearly his equal in all that. They would simply respect one another, produce an heir, and then turn a blind eye to whatever… less respectable actions the other undertook.

And so, the marriage was arranged and consummated to satisfaction.

Another truth universally acknowledged is that no father is more proud then when he first sets eyes on his firstborn son.

Again, and rather predictably, Lucius Malfoy was no exception. The birth of Draco was a source of great pride to him. Affection towards the child was perhaps too much to hope for; but as the youngster grew to be more and more a carbon copy of his silverhaired father, so did the pride of Lucius Malfoy grow.

Narcissa Malfoy, though her name was given to her for a reason, was attached to her son, and there was little she wouldn't do for him.

And so Draco Malfoy grew up, a spoiled brat on one hand, a child carrying the weight and dignity of the Malfoy name at a much too early age on the other.

Draco was a child like any other. Any other wizard child, that is. He had his first accidental magic incident when he was three, whined endlessly to be allowed to fly on his father's broomstick, and complained about the amount of homework his teachers set him.

But to be a Malfoy meant to be more then a child like any other. It meant perfection. It meant greatness. It meant pureblood pride.

Life, and more specifically his parents, taught Draco that obedience yields rewards. Living up to expectations is profitable. Failure results in punishment and could ultimately even lead to being disowned. His mother Narcissa pointed out many times on the family portrait how her sister Andromeda had been disowned for marrying a Muggle. Young Draco, five at the time, did not quite comprehend what a Muggle was, but it must be something vile. Mother always got a very strange look on her face when mentioning the term, like she had found something exceedingly unpleasant under the sole of her elegant pumps. But one thing Draco did understand: that his continued presence on the family tree depended on his ability to live up to expectations.

And those expectations included hating Muggles, marrying within pureblood families, producing heirs, and use any means to gain more power for the family, even if it meant following Dark Lords.

Draco's grandfather had been involved with Grindelwald; Lucius had been, despite his claims to the contrary, a Death Eater.

Taught by Nanny's and later by a Governor, Draco excelled at his studies. Of course, he would not have dared do otherwise. It was impossible to be of Malfoy blood and NOT excel.

Then he entered Hogwarts.

He had expected to be nearly worshipped, as he had been all his life. But unfortunately for young Draco – or perhaps, it was VERY fortunate for young Draco – a…celebrity…entered Hogwarts in the same year as he did. And Harry Potter unintentionally drew away the attention that was rightfully Draco's. While Draco ruled Slytherin House, Harry Potter ruled the school.

But his humiliation did not stop there. His father was proud that he was sorted into Slytherin, though he had expected nothing less. His mother rewarded him with a large stack of his favorite cookies.

His first Potions class was a rousing success. For him, that is. Professor Snape, one of his father's friends, put the young Boy Who Lived in his place.

And then Harry became Seeker, the youngest one in a century. Every single game since second year he was bested by that boy. Lucius was extremely displeased with that, and the fact that the mudblood Granger invariably gained higher grades then he did…even in Potions.

Lucius, meanwhile, had his own concerns. There were rumors of the Dark Lords imminent return. Oh, not this year and perhaps not the next – if the Potter brat kept living up to his reputation – but one day he would return. And Lucius was in doubt on whether or not he wanted that to happen.

The Dark Lord would be bad for business, that much was obvious. The first years after his return, when his followers would have to fight for dominance would most likely cost more then turn in a profit. Once he had successfully convinced the Ministry of his innocence after the Dark Lords fall, he had become a respected member of the community and friends to the Minister himself.

So as long as he could justify his inaction, Lucius did exactly that – nothing.

He was well enough connected to realize what Quirrel's possession by the Dark Lord meant. So for once he took action; he gave the diary to the Weasley girl.

He could tell the signs were getting clearer and clearer. Frank Bryce died. Not that he cared for a Muggle, but the man died in Riddle Mansion. Bertha Jorkins disappeared. He had always suspected Peter Pettigrew of faking his own death; he knew perfectly well that Sirius Black was anything but a Death Eater, unlike Peter. When Draco told him that Weasley seemed to have lost his rat at the end of third year, the year Sirius Black escaped, he suspected that the Dark Lord had something to do with it.

In June of his sons fourth year the Dark Lord did indeed return. He was able to convince him, more or less, of his loyalty. Not completely; the Dark Lord knew him all too well, but Lucius was well aware of his value to the Dark Wizard. Voldemort realized that in the end, Lucius served himself more then anything else, but to serve himself meant to stay with the Dark Lord; that was fine with Voldemort. He himself did not understand friendship, so why expect someone else to stay for that reason?

It was a blow to them when Harry Potter escaped that night. Fortunately the idiot Fudge refused to believe in his return. It took quite some effort and money, but he managed to keep Fudge in check that year.

Draco's fifth year was, in his eyes, going absolutely splendidly. He finally ruled the school. Nothing could have been more astonishing to him then when his father was arrested and thrown into Azkaban. He knew what was expected of him. His father had followed the Dark Lord. The honor of the House of Malfoy was at stake. Something had to be done, and Draco was the only Malfoy heir left to do it. The Dark Lord Marked him. Asked him to take up the service previously rendered by his father. His first assignment was a joke. He knew he was expected to fail, but he would give it his best nevertheless. The assignment the Dark Lord would ask of none of his Death Eaters, let alone one so young and inexperienced. He was asked to kill Albus Dumbledore.

Throughout the year, he made half hearted attempts, which failed. The headmaster wasn't at the school much that year, leaving and returning in a most unpredictable manner. But the night came in which he knew he had to do it. The old wizard was helpless, looked like he was already dying. Killing him would be easy, and he would probably even do the old man a favor.

He couldn't. In the end, he couldn't. As Snape dragged him across the school grounds, he realized for the first time that there were worse things then being blast of a tapestry. Worse things then being a disappointment to others; it was far worse to be a disappointment to yourself.

That is what Snape taught him, the many hours they spent together in the next weeks. Yes, they did return to the Dark Lord, briefly. They were lavished with praise and his lack of nerves was overlooked.

But Snape was still a spy.

And as spies do, he passed information to the Order, who, aided by the will left by the former headmaster, began to trust their enigmatic member once again. And Draco observed.

Somewhere during that time, he came to a decision.

He had not yet killed. Snape had done that for him. Snape had been a Death Eater once, but had repented, and now spent the rest of his life atoning for his crimes. Draco knew that even though it had been a direct order by the former headmaster, Snape would never forgive himself for killing the old man. He could see it in his eyes, in the manner in which he spoke and acted. In ten weeks, he had seen the man age ten years.

The Dark Lord, Draco decided, was not worth following. His father's footsteps were leading in the wrong direction.

Although he never directly confronted Snape about it, the man knew. One night, he woke Draco at 2 am and told him to get up and dress quietly. Then he apparated them both to a part of the country Draco was unfamiliar with. They saw a single house in the middle of fields, supposedly belonging to a farmer's family.

Then Draco heard the plops of more people apparating and saw Death Eaters surrounding the house, holding out their wands. The leader motioned for the other's to get into position.

Snape turned to him, whispering and urging him to stay out of sight no matter what happened.

"What you are about to see is shocking, Draco, but remember that once you choose the Dark Lord, this is your future," the older man had whispered, as they lay in hiding.

"Why are we here? This is a Muggle town. Are they going Muggle baiting tonight?"

"It is more then baiting, Draco," the spy had said seriously, "much more."

He was right.

The Death Eaters had barged in and dragged the family out. Draco saw five, two parents, an older girl, and two young children, maybe three and four years old.

They were forced to watch as the house was set on fire, their precious belongings all went up in flames. Draco watched dispassionately. He knew things like these happened.

Then one of the Death Eaters lifted the youngest child. Draco watched in horror as he spun the child over his head, while the parents screamed and begged.

His masked fellows only laughed. The leading Death Eater flung the child in the flames like a ragdoll.

Draco heard one inhuman scream before total silence reigned.

It lasted only seconds. The father threw himself at the Death Eater, trying to pound him into dust.

He was too far off to hear the curse, but the green light told it all. The man fell, dead, at the Death Eater's feet.

Draco tried to avert his eyes as the second youngster was picked up, but Snape held his face and forced him to watch.

The mother and sister were restrained by the other Death Eaters, unable to do anything but watch as the precious little one was thrown into the inferno.

Draco began to wrestle against Snape's grip when the Death Eaters tore the women's clothing and began to take turns raping them.

Snape held on, forcing him to see every detail play out. It took a long time before it was over. The exhausted and wounded women were killed by an Avada Kedavra. Then Snape finally let go.

Draco crawled to the nearest bush and started puking up his innards, or so it seemed. He trembled all over and not a muscle in his body seemed to be willing to cooperate.

Snape helped him up, sat him against a tree and gave him a handkerchief to wipe his mouth.

"I hate you," Draco said, "why did you make me watch…that?"

"Because that is what you are going to be," Snape said harshly, "in a few more months they will take you along on missions such as these. In a year or two you will be expected to join. And after that…after that they'll make you lead one. The leader today was your father."

Draco went grey. "No. Not my father. Those children…"

"Those children were not the first he killed, and will not be the last, either. At some point, there is no turning back, Draco."

"YOU turned back."

"I had not participated when I turned back. I don't usually go on these missions anyway. My skills lie with potions and instruction, not mindless killing, and the Dark Lord knows it. But you, young Malfoy…they expect many things from you."

"I don't want to do…that."

"I know, but you will, eventually. You will get used to seeing it, and you will get used to doing it."

"I don't WANT TO DO THAT!"

"Keep your voice down. The Aurors will be here soon. Bloody idiots. They should have been here earlier."

"Did you expect them to?"

"Of course, I tipped them off."

"Then why didn't they come?"

"These people were Muggles, Draco. There was another raid today, that was potentially dangerous to a Wizarding family. They chose to guard them."

"But these people were KILLED."

"Yes, they were."

"Why?"

"For fun. Because they are Muggles."

"It's not right."

"It's what Death Eaters DO."

"I don't want that."

"You wanted to kill Dumbledore."

"Not really. Not truly, or I would have managed it. I…I thought I had to follow my father, but I don't want to follow him in this."

"There is still a way out for you. It won't be easy, and it won't be safe, but it is there."

"Turn myself over to the Aurors?"

"No. Harder then that. Turn yourself over to Harry Potter."

"WHAT?"

"He is the leader of the light now. He is also a Gryffindor, foolish enough to believe the best of people. He…he is like Albus in many ways. He will give you your second chance, like Albus gave me mine."

That is exactly what Harry did.

Lucius had lost his son.

Lucius had lost his son, and he knew it. Narcissa was remarkably calm under it, although her sister raged and rampaged in anger. Snape, as Draco's tutor, was severely punished for not taking care of the boy. It took weeks before he was back on his feet, but as he lay helpless in his bed in Malfoy Manor where Narcissa had brought him, he was happy in the knowledge that Draco was free of his father and free of the Dark Lord.

Lucius brooded for most of that time, indeed blasting Draco off the tapestry, and disowning him.

The battle was going badly for them, Lucius noted. The Dark Lord was wasting resources on protecting odd objects that Harry Potter was apparently after. Oh yes, Lucius suspected the truth. He just didn't want to know it. Even to him, a Death Eater, the idea of six…no, that was too much. The diary was one thing, but six?

He didn't want to admit it, but he missed his son. Draco had adored him from the moment he could walk and talk, and now the boy had turned against him.

He felt betrayed. Draco wasn't supposed to turn against him. He sat for hours staring at pictures of Draco as an infant, as toddler, at Christmas, in the same dress robes as his father. His first time on a broomstick. All those pictures showed the same thing: Draco adored him, and he was smiling indulgently at his son and heir, the pride and joy of Malfoy Manor.

Rumors reached him that Draco had joined the Order of the Phoenix, and was actively fighting against the Dark Lord. He knew the Dark Lord used the Mark to punish the boy for his treachery, and he hardened his heart against that knowledge, refusing to think of how much pain his son would be in.

He noticed a change in his wife. Narcissa, usually on excellent terms with Severus Snape, had been hostile towards the Potions Master ever since he had been able to walk out of Malfoy Manor on his own. Lucius soon found out why.

Severus Snape was a spy. Narcissa had asked him to protect her son, and Severus had done that by making sure Draco did not murder, and finally by helping him turn against him. Severus escaped the Dark Lord's wrath. He had been warned he was found out, and never responded to the call.

Lucius gritted his teeth as he realised he had been betrayed by not only his son, but also his friend, and became all the more vicious in his torture and killing, so much that the Dark Lord finally forgave him for producing traitor offspring.

And then the final battle came. It was inevitable. The Dark Lord was clearly distraught when Harry Potter destroyed all his Horcruxes, and then headed straight for Riddle Mansion with the whole Order and numerous Aurors backing him up.

Lucius was not a coward, merely a Slytherin. He would not risk his life unnecessarily, but he did not back away from a fight that could not be avoided.

He stayed close to the Dark Lord during the first part of the battle, protecting him. But then Potter had found him, and the Dark Lord ordered them to leave, wanting to take out the brat himself.

Lucius got stuck in the battle between Wormtail and Remus Lupin, and found that he honestly had no idea who he should be cheering for. The rat was disgusting, even if he was on their side. He could therefore not be too sad when the werewolf killed him rather quickly. Lucius took a few moments to marvel at the duality in that man. The ferocious werewolf and the kind, softspoken man.

Lucius engaged the werewolf himself, then, and that battle lasted much longer. Though he was the stronger, the werewolf was agile enough, and did not lack training like some of the Ministry personnel that had also joined the battle.

In the end, neither won or lost. They were both severely wounded when a dark cloud rushed over the battlefield, sending grown man running, screaming for their mothers.

Lucius felt his arm burn and yanked up his sleeve; the Dark Mark was gone. Voldemort had been defeated.

He stared at the spot where the Mark used to be in disbelief. All this time he had not truly believed that Potter could defeat the Dark Lord. Even when the boy overcame obstacle after obstacle in retrieving and destroying the Horcruxes, they had not taken him seriously. Lucius knew Voldemort HAD taken him seriously, but even the Dark Lord had apparently underestimated him.

And now he was dead.

The battles died out, most Death Eaters gave themselves up quickly after they realised their Lord was no more. Lucius hid from the Aurors and Order members, walking over the battlefield in search of his fallen comrades. Bellatrix was lying not far from where he had left the Dark Lord, her dead eyes open, her face horribly disfigured by what looked like quite an effective Bat Bogey Hex. He couldn't help but snort.

In the distance, he saw figures. Moving closer, he saw the youngest Weasley boy and the redheaded mudblood carrying Potter from the battlefield. He didn't know if the boy had survived and he didn't care much. Directly behind the Trio was Severus Snape, the traitor, carrying the still form of the Weasley girl.

All anger, all pain, all feeling of betrayal came rushing back at Lucius. His eyes flashed with anger as he pointed his wand at the traitors back.

But before he could utter the curse, a weak voice cried 'Accio Father's wand' and his wand flew from his hand.

He turned around to see a familiar figure. Familiar and yet so unfamiliar. His son. Draco.

He was a mess. His silvery hair was dirty with mud and blood, plastered to his skull. His robes were torn and Lucius could see the severe wounds from the Sectumsempra. Those were not the problem though. Draco coughed and blood ran from his mouth, down his chin, staining his robes even more. It was clear there was nothing left to do here. He was dying.

"Well…father. It is over now."

Lucius hesitated, then kneeled next to his son, and lifted him in his arms.

"Yes it is. You won. You must be proud."

"And you…must…hate me."

It was hard, even for Lucius, to hate someone who was so clearly and so bravely dying.

"I don't want to lose you, Draco, even now. You must have seen now what becoming a traitor has brought you; death. We could have been great together. We could have made the Malfoy name count for something. You are my son, I do not wish for you to die. Why did you betray me?"

"It was…the right thing to do."

"You left me," he reproached the boy.

"No, father," Draco managed, "you left me. I saw…what you did…Muggle baiting…"

Paling, Lucius realized what exactly his son must have seen.

"We could have been great in the Dark Lords service," he hesitatingly said.

"A Malfoy…groveling?" even near death his son managed to sneer admirably. Severus must have spent hours teaching him that.

"You chose this path, you chose to run away from me, and look where it got you," he shot back.

"Yes…quite a …predicament, isn't it?" Draco managed a slight smile, "yet I prefer…this."

"You prefer dying?"

"I prefer…dying free and…unblemished," Draco clarified.

"There is no good or evil…" Lucius began to repeat the Dark Lords mantra.

"Oh yes…there is!" his son stopped him, "it is…not always clear…but there is good…and there is evil…and what you did…is evil."

"I sought only power."

"To abuse it."

"You took my son from me!" Lucius cried out in despair.

Draco leaned back, barely breathing. "Yes…and for that…I am sorry. But I will not…apologise…" he coughed, and more blood splattered his robes, "for not following in your…path…because it led…nowhere."

"You took everything from me," Lucius said, coldly, "And now I have nothing left. You have breath in you still; kill me now, and let it be over with."

Two feverish eyes were set on his face. Draco shook his head. "Do you seek…to make me the murderer…I strove to avoid becoming? Are the shades of the Manor…to be thus polluted? Make me…a murderer…in my last hour?"

"No! I want out of this life. And if I have to die, then better by the hand of my own son!"

"I believe…" Draco wheezed, "That Albus Dumbledore said the same thing once. But he…had good reason. You…are being selfish…father."

With the last of his strength, he pushed himself up.

"You are a Death Eater. You murdered, you raped, you tortured, and you enjoyed it. You are responsible for your own path, as I am for mine. We both knew the consequences. I am accepting them. I knew I could die and I willingly took that risk. You chose the Dark Lord, now accept your own doom. You brought it on yourself. I did not do that, no one else did that. But do not blame me for doing what was right instead of what was easy."

Lucius stared bitterly at his dying son.

"You have become Dumbledore's man," he spat out.

"Yes," Draco said, "Ironic, isn't it, that I joined the man I tried to kill. I should have turned to him years earlier. Remind me to thank Severus for showing me the truth."

"My son turned traitor," Lucius lamented.

"Your son made his decision and acted upon it. And accepted the consequences. I suggest…you do the same," Draco's eyes began to close.

"Stop…feeling sorry for yourself…" The breathing became more and more shallow, and Lucius got up.

"So even near death you will not repent and come back to me," he said.

Draco opened his eyes with great effort. "I have repented…that is why I fought…on the Order's side…today. I have…no regrets…"

The breathing hitched, then stopped altogether.

Lucius stared numbly at the dead body of his son.

Flashes of the boy's life, of the time when he was still proud of his son, raced through his own confused mind.

_Draco as a three year old, accidentally summoning his food from the table to the floor. Narcissa had laughed in delight, Lucius had smiled in approval, Draco had clapped his little hands. _

"_Me do magic, like Faver!" the boy had exclaimed happily. Lucius had always forbidden his son to call him 'Daddy' like the bloodtraitor Weasley scum did. He had patted his son on the head and promised him a new toy broomstick as a reward. _

_At seven years of age, Draco had stolen and ridden his own broomstick, catching butterflies to pull out their wings. Though he had lectured the boy and told him not to nick the broom again, he had not been able to keep the proud tone from his voice, and the little brat had only smirked and told him he had caught a dozen butterflies all by himself._

When he looked up, he saw Severus Snape standing in front of him.

"Did you…" the former spy started in disgust. He shook his head.

"He was dying when I got here. I did not kill my own son!" Lucius exclaimed.

"He is no longer your son," Snape replied, lifting the body from the ground and cradling it against his chest, ignoring the blood and dirt.

"You disowned him."

"You took him from me."

"I showed him what life as a Death Eater is like. He made his own choices. As you should do now, Lucius. I have to take Draco back home. I don't have time or enough hands free to arrest you. The Aurors will be here soon. Turn yourself in, and I will convince Harry not to have you executed until after Draco's funeral."

Lucius looked at the pale hand that hung limp from Severus' embrace, and the now blueish white face that rested against his chest.

"What do I have to run for? Narcissa is dead, Draco has been taken away from me a long time ago. They will get me anyway."

Severus looked at him in disgust. "Is yourself all you ever think about? Your son has just died, Lucius. But do what you wish."

With that, Severus apparated away.

The hard thing about waiting for death, Lucius contemplated, is the huge amount of time one has to think about one's life.

And his was not pretty.

The Dementors were gone. Of course. They had joined the Dark Lord and would never be allowed in wizarding society again, not even to guard the prison.

In light of recent events, the Ministry had resolved to reinstate the death penalty for Death Eaters by use of the Killing Curse, even though Harry Potter had fiercely objected to that.

By testimony of the same Harry Potter, Severus Snape had escaped prosecution for the killing of Albus Dumbledore. Lucius sighed. In the end, then, only Severus had won.

He could not bring himself to see that his son, too, had won.

Draco…

"I see you are still having a pity party," he heard.

"Draco?" he asked in amazement, looking at his son as he remembered him, a tall young man with silvery hair and bright grey eyes.

"Still not accepting the consequences of your actions, are you?"

"Well I am HERE, aren't I? About to be killed," he snapped.

"But you ran. They caught you, but you ran."

"What else was I supposed to do?"

"Follow in MY footsteps for a change. You don't see, do you? I have paid for my mistakes, I have accepted the consequences of what I did and I am at peace now. Your life will end very soon; will you not at least acknowledge that what you did what wrong?"

"I followed the Dark Lord because I believed it to be for the best."

"DON'T PLAY WITH ME!" Draco roared…how did he come to be here anyway? He was not a ghost. A figment of his imagination perhaps? Yes, must be.

"Was killing small children for the best? Making their parents watch as they burned alive? Was raping women and even young girls for the best? Was it for the best to torture people who did nothing wrong but being born without magic?"

"You've changed," Lucius said wryly.

"I have. I have seen that the way you brought me up was despicable. You very nearly turned me into a carbon copy of you; a murderer, a rapist, a sadist. But until you admit that, we have nothing to talk about."

"Goodbye, then," Lucius said, trying to be smart.

He blinked. Draco was gone, only two guards remained.

They chained him to the chair from the Ministry. The chains enchanted so he could not even do accidental magic. Four hitwizards from the Ministry positioned themselves in front of him.

Lucius did not feel the need to taunt them.

How much had been taken from him! He had had a family once, a beautiful wife, a son to be proud of, a respected member of the community was he.

Then first Narcissa had started acting behind his back, Draco had turned from him, and both of them had gotten themselves killed.

And here he was.

Executed like a common criminal.

It was Draco's fault.

It was Narcissa's fault

It was Snape's fault

It was the Dark Lord's fault.

It was…

The green light connected with his chest, and the last Malfoy knew no more.


End file.
